The Thin Line
by TerraZeal
Summary: Tirion talks to Lindsay Ravensun before the Battle for Andorhal. Slash and Het. Tirion/Darion, Tirion/Koltira, Tirion/Lindsay. Nothing beyond kissing.


_**Author's Note:** Yes, a semi-Het!Tirion fic, although there is Tirion/Darion at the start, and Tirion/Koltira hinted at (Tirion is a man whore, even though he's ancient). Tirion/Lindsay Ravensun before the Battle for Andorhal set of quests. If you don't know who Lindsay is...do that set of quests! She is not an OC, as much as I would like to put a Mary Sue version of myself with Tirion. Nor is she just a random NPC questgiver even though she seems like it at first. A few random jokes thrown in for people who have read my other Tirion/Darion fics. Koltira/Thassarian also hinted at, but hell, the damn quests hint at that. Minor Alliance bashing, even though I honestly like both factions equally (well, used to, since Garrosh became Warchief, maybe Alliance is better). Thrall-is-awesomeness._

_**The Thin Line**_

Tirion watched the Alliance forces, and his own Argent Crusade and Order forces attempt to rally against the Forsaken in Andorhal. It was a losing battle. They knew not who and what they really fought. The farmers taking up arms against...that...would fall and simply be raised as more cannon fodder. As a paladin, as a servant of the Light, he didn't want it to happen.

He knew it must, however. Hearthglen was irritatingly close to Andorhal. He couldn't see the 'city' with his own eyes, but he heard the screams from the civilians in Hearthglen, from the paladin and priest trainees of the Crusade. The Forsaken and the Scourge, fighting helpless Alliance farmers.

Koltira's truce with Thassarian was at an end, but not due to either one of them. The two death knights were quite...close...and wouldn't intentionally fight one another or do anything to provoke fighting. Tirion had to act fast, if he were going to try and stop it. He knew, in his heart, that he couldn't stop the oncoming slaughter, but his honor wouldn't let him leave well enough alone.

The paladin stepped onto a balcony outside the sitting room in his beloved Mardenholde Keep and whistled softly. A few clicking steps brought Tirion's attention away from the balcony. His beloved Death Knight and best friend, Darion Mograine was standing in the doorway, watching him quizzically.

"Tirion? Don't even try. You and I both know what is out there. If you go, you know I would have to go with you, if only..." Darion was cut out with a wave of Tirion's hand.

"No, Darion. You know she would use her power on you. You would be as helpless as the innocents she intends to use as cannon fodder. I can't stop it. Neither of us can. But perhaps I can prevent future evil. We have...had words...before, but she has not heeded them, or she doesn't care."

Darion shook his head. "You can't just go and intend on facing...that...without at least another body! You don't know the type of power she wields! It is almost greater than that of the Lich King! Perhaps truly greater! She is backed by more than just mindless zombies! He followers think, feel, and, above all, are unkillable and unflinchingly loyal. Not even the mighty Ashbringer can hold off an army." The Death Knight was being obstinate, as per usual.

Tirion's lips twitched beneath his silver beard. He loved the Death Knight dearly, but sometimes he was a fool. "I won't be alone. I never am, my love." Darion sighed irritably and shook his head, glaring at the paladin. He would pout for some time, even when Tirion returned to Mardenholde without a scratch.

A flapping sound brought his attention back to the balcony. A winged horse hovered there, waiting for the paladin to mount. He stroked the cool side of the horse and leaped on his back. Holding the reigns, he flew over the Plaguelands, over Hearthglen. Some of the trainees gasped and clapped at the sight of the brilliant winged horse. He led his beloved mount (the horse, not Darion) to Andorhal.

Tirion called upon the Light to grant him stealth needed to meet with the undead woman who called herself Lindsay Ravensun. Ah, why oh why did 'evil' undead and monstrous dragons love anagrams so much?

He was no rogue or druid, but none of the undead or guards seemed to notice. Sunlight seemed to glance off his armor in such a way that all the undead guards saw was beams of glaring light glancing off pieces of their equipment and paid him no heed.

He slipped carefully past several guards in a building and crept into the basement of the greathall where he had overheard the undead woman was staying. Koltira had been bitching about her. He would have gladly revealed himself to Koltira, he had nothing to fear from him, but he wasn't sure he could do so without alerting other, less-paladin-loving undead to his presence.

Still under the Light-stealth spell, he entered the room she was in. There were no guards. Of course, why would she need any? A small, non-threatening looking undead woman sat broodingly on the ground of the greathall, a large mace lying at her feet. Tirion's lips twitched at the sight of the mace. He threw off the spell.

"A great man once owned that mace, little one. What right have you to it?" Tirion wasn't sure what he liked most, the woman's shock that he was even here or the shock that not one person had been alerted to his presence. She opened her mouth.

Tirion held up a hand. "Please. Don't. It wouldn't be worth the trouble, yours or mine. If I had come to slay you, why would I have revealed myself?"

The woman sneered. She ran a bony hand through her sleek, white-blonde hair. Hair that matched her perfectly. The eyes did not match. At all. They were a brilliant gold, not at all what he would have expected. "I could still call them. Not even the mighty Ashbringer could fight off an army." Lindsay's words echoed those of Darion, only a bit before.

"You could." He said. Still smiling softly at her. "Why would you? Are they so expendable? I have spoken to you before and did not harm you. Why would I now?"

The woman picked up her mace, it looked odd in her hands, as if she weren't used to using maces. Of course she wasn't. Tirion knew that, so did all who knew the truth of her. She had a musing expression on her borrowed face. "I could kill you. Your boyfriend isn't here to watch your back."

Tirion brushed off the implied insult. "I don't need Darion to fight my battles. Besides, you could hold him in thrall to you as easily as you do the weak ones. Illusions do not work on a soldier of the Light, my Lady."

Ravensun stiffened. "Do NOT call me that. I am not your Lady, foul paladin." Her rotting lips twitched. "I could BE your Lady, though...oh, but of course, the Light would never let me have you. If you would renounce it, you could be great...my greatest champion, yes?" She had strode forward, and was running a hand over the Ashbringer's armored chest.

"I didn't come here to join your side, La-Lindsay." Tirion noticed she blinked at that, when he called her by that name. "I will call you by your name...well, the name you're using...if you stop calling me 'paladin' and Ashbringer. Call me Tirion. I mean you no harm, for now." He let the threat hang. Should she become the next Arthas, or worse, he and his Order WOULD be a threat. But he didn't want that at all.

She dug her decaying nails into his armor, although it caused no marks. "I will remember your threats...Tirion." She twitched, almost as if it hurt her to call him by name. "Why are you here, if not to stop the slaughter at Andorhal? We own it, rightfully. The Horde won."

Tirion nodded. "I will not deny that Andorhal belongs to the Horde now. But innocents needn't die."

Lindsay cocked her head to the side slightly, considering the paladin. "You, a human, alliance to the core, does not care that the Horde will win this day?"

"Dear Lindsay, I am no more Alliance than Darion is Scourge. The Argent Crusade, the Order of the Silver Hand...it stands apart from faction lines. If the Horde rightfully wins this battle, I have no problem with it. Thrall is as much my friend as Varian. Perhaps even moreso." The last was said remembering Eitrigg, the orc he'd given up all to save. Varian still didn't understand, but Thrall was honorable and trusted Tirion with his life.

"As for the Alliance, dear Lindsay...why would anyone consider me alliance? Just because I am human? The alliance cast me out, tried to kill me, let my wife and son die, called me a pariah, attempted to strip me of my powers of the Light...and now they want me to be one of them? I will always help those who need it, but I don't need to be horde or alliance to do so."

"The Alliance calls me the greatest paladin who ever lived, but there was a time when they called me a crazy orc-lover. A time when even Uther Lightbringer and Alexandros Mograine, the first wielder of this magnificent sword," Tirion flexed his back, the Ashbringer sparkling in the dull light, "condemned me to a fate worse than death. I watched my wife and son die, and I could do nothing, all thanks to the Alliance. I do not fight for them. I do not fight for the Horde. I fight for the Order, for Darion, for my honor. What do YOU fight for, Lindsay Ravensun?"

Her odd, golden eyes bore into his silvery-green ones for a moment, before she had to look away. "I fight for what I must. I fight for my right to exist. You never had to fight for that, did you? You're human, you're alive. You're practically worshiped. Even the neutral city of Dalaran built a solid gold statue of you in their square. You don't have to fight just to exist. I do. We do."

For a moment, the golden eyes seemed to shimmer, perhaps with tears. Or perhaps the presence of the Ashbringer was causing the glamour spell to fade. Tirion knew she was, without doubt, right.

The Forsaken had, indeed, gotten a...what was the phrase Darion liked to use? A bum deal. The short end of the stick. Raised unwillingly by the mad King to serve him, then when they finally freed themselves from his control, denied re-entry into the alliance. Much like how Tirion himself had been exiled. Tirion's exile had been his own doing, though.

Tirion looked Lindsay in the eyes, his green locking with her gold. "If you could go back, if the alliance opened its arms to you, would you? Even should the curse of undeath be removed and you returned to life, would you return to the alliance?"

Lindsay leaned forward, pressing her lips softly against the old paladin's. They were ice cold and Tirion could taste the rot. Darion and Koltira were cold, but they didn't taste of rot and undeath like she did. It seemed to be that this woman was the very essence of undeath. She gripped the paladin's shoulders with her bony hands, pulling him into her embrace. Lindsay bit down slightly on his bottom lip, bringing blood. She licked the blood, and Tirion's lips.

Ever since Karandra's death, Tirion had not felt the pull of a woman's body, but Lindsay...she was alluring, even in her current, rotting disguise. The undead woman pressed another bloody kiss to the paladin's lips and pulled back. She licked her lips, blood trickling down her chin.

"You taste _divine, _paladin. I am not answering your question, because you already know the answer to that, don't you?" Lindsay ran a bony finger over her lips, tasting Tirion's blood once more. She purred with delight. "I can certainly see why those Death Knights love to take you to their beds. Although, to be honest, I can't see why Koltira cheated on Thassarian with you. I thought the two were inseperable. Perhaps I can do something about that. What did Darion think, about you taking the blood elf to your bed?"

Tirion simply looked at her. He put a hand to his split lip and cast a wordless healing spell with a small flash of light. "Darion and I were not...together...at the time, so it doesn't matter. Yes, I do know the answer to your question. You wouldn't return, just like me. Because you and I can see them for what they really are. The alliance only gives people second chances when they conform to their idea of what makes a person...well...a person."

"Even if they should open their arms to the Forsaken, you all would be second class citizens. At least in the Horde, you have power. As...unpleasant...as Garrosh is, at least he treats you all the same as long as you do what he wants. Should the curse be removed...well...would return to alliance or go back to your true people, in the Horde? You would stay with the Horde, because Thrall let you in, even if he didn't trust you, he knew what it was like to have no place in the world. So do I , Lindsay."

The undead woman looked away. She picked up the mace again, examining it. "Tirion...you said this once belonged to a great man. Was he a paladin, like yourself?" She ran her hands over the mace, feeling it up.

Tirion stiffened slightly. "Yes. That mace is a paladin weapon, Lindsay. The powers it holds can only be truly utilized by one of the Light. Even if you were a warrior, the mace would never show you its true potential. One of the Four Horsemen of Naxxramas had it in his possession before and after he died. Someone took it from the chest of treasures, and here I see it in your hands."

Lindsay gave a sneering grin. "I know. A mace from a redeemed paladin, in the hands of...me...irony at its best, isn't? It would be much like if the purified Ashbringer found its way into the hands of Kel'thuzad, wouldn't it?"

"Kel'thuzad is dead. He's been killed at least three times. The monster will harm Darion no more."

Lindsay laughed at the paladin's naivete. "Kel'thuzad was a lich, paladin. Surely the greatest of all paladins is not so ignorant that he doesn't know that the only way to TRULY end a lich is to destroy their phylactery. Or, in Kel'thuzad's case, phylacteries. He is perhaps the smartest lich there ever was. He worships death, and yet he's never experienced true death. Perhaps he never will, if the idiots that serve us all cannot do something as simple as destroy the phylactery of a lich."

Tirion glared at her. "You and I both know that the normal heroes of Azeroth cannot destroy a phylactery. They have a compulsion spell on them. Whoever picks up a phylactery will not WANT to destroy it. Why do you think the first raid on Naxxramas, the second death of Kel'thuzad, ended with the phylactery being turned into the Argent Dawn?"

The undead laughed, a high pitched piercing sound. "And look how well THAT turned out!"

Tirion tilted his head slightly at her. "I did not say it was a good idea. The man that took the phylactery had a weak will. The compulsion of the evil lich overwhelmed him and he became in thrall to the power of the item and returned Kel'thuzad to his body."

Tirion flexed his shoulders, showing the Ashbringer to good advantage. "However, I don't think that will happen next time. I will personally be there to deliver the killing blow to the evil one's last phylactery, whatever it happens to be. Darion and I will take great pleasure in seeing him dead for all the pain and suffering he caused by murdering Darion's family. Not even a lich as powerful as Kel'thuzad can stand up to the weapon that took down Arthas. The Ashbringer will break the final phylactery and put an end to Kel'thuzad once and for all."

Lindsay smiled. "Tis a mighty weapon, Tirion." She had stopped calling him paladin and started using his name again. "Who will wield it when you die? You have no children, you're too old to sire an heir, and I don't think you would be that thrilled with the idea anyway."

Tirion's lips twitched. He almost smiled at her semi-insults. "I have no inclination to father an heir. I...am not sure who will wield it. I know who I WANT to do so, but I am not sure the purified sword would allow undead hands to touch it."

Laughter assailed him once again. "Oh, how very rich! You want that little Mograine boy, your little Darion, to have his sword back after you die of old age, which surely MUST happen soon. The Ashbringer returned to the Mograine family...hah! If your precious Light had wanted Darion to have the sword, it would never had rejected him. Surely you realize this?" There was a smirk in Lindsay's voice.

The paladin sighed slightly. "I realize that, Lindsay. Part of me still hopes. There is much good, and much love, within Darion. He could wield the purified Ashbringer if he could just let go of that small thread of hatred within him."

The undead woman smirked. "I suppose you know all about what is inside Darion." She laughed and stepped forward to run a hand down Tirion's wrinkled cheek. "There is a thin line between love and hate, Tirion Fordring, Ashbringer. Sometimes I think I loved him, in the darkest, craziest parts of my rotting brains, and the logical part of me hated him with a passion so great that one could almost mistake it for love. Arthas. The one who took my life and my family."

Lindsay finally stepped back. "Tirion, if you really want Darion to wield your precious sword, and by sword I mean the Ashbringer," She chuckled at her bad joke. "you need to get Darion to step across that thin line, or break it. There is one thing about me that I have no illusions of. I know about the thin line between love and hate. When Darion can love Kel'thuzad at the same time he hates him, then he can wield your precious sword. His hatred of Kel'thuzad is the only thing preventing him from being pure."

"I have no idea how you have gotten so wise, my Lady, yes, I call you that because that is who you are. Lindsay Ravensun is a shadow, a mask to disguise the truth of you. I will talk to Darion about this. Perhaps we can...find a way to help his hatred turn into something else. In the mean time, take your own advice. Find your peace. You can stop this slaughter. Only you can."

Lindsay's golden eyes had taken on a crimson sheen. "I have no intention of stopping anything, Highlord. What happens will happen. I turned my love to hate long ago. You want your Death Knight to turn his hate to love. I am what happens when there is no love left in someone. Only pure hatred. I hate you. I hate you all. Living, undead...it doesn't matter." The last of the gold in Lindsay's eyes faded, they were pure crimson now. "You will all fall. The Dark Lady will be the death of you."

Tirion looked at her sideways. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps you're wrong. Either way, you say it is too late for you, but you're wrong there. Your hatred isn't all you are. I said this before, when I spoke to you. There are people that you say you hate but you can't. Perhaps she will save you, in the end, your sister. You are not yet ruined, Sylvanas."

With that, Tirion turned and walked out. He didn't bother with a spell. If the undead wanted to attack him, let them. The Ashbringer would not fail him. It never did.


End file.
